Thanks Giving Party
by XxRoSeMoOnXx
Summary: Nothin' sweeter than sitting with a boy and eating pie. FxS. OneShot.


It was a dinner party and Fine didn't know anyone there. There were no kids her age either.

Well, she wasn't a kid. (Sixteen years old was not a 'kid' necessarily…but when all the other guests were forty and up, sixteen was kiddish enough.) And, _really_, she wasn't the only kid; there was that violet-haired brooding boy (wow, alliteration) who'd been sitting at the end of the long dining table as silently as a statue and a toddler who was currently causing a ruckus by smashing both hands into the casserole dish.

It was Thanksgiving and Mister and Missus Kintana had decided to throw upon themselves to host a grand business dinner party. Their bosses came, their coworkers came, their friends came, and these three groups of people's children were also invited. Except, the 'children' category included only her, the brooding boy, and that four-year-old toddler. Both of their names escaped her most likely because they hadn't been introduced properly.

The adults were typical wine connoisseurs and jolly grownups and after only an hour, their faces turned red and they were laughing at every horrible joke anybody cracked. Fine felt slightly queasy under the bright lights and around the greasy and warm plates of turkey and potatoes so she, as politely as she could, went around the table collecting unused dishes and empty plates. The adults simply leaned to one side to give her room to pick up their plates (a 'thanks' would have sufficed as she was _not_ their waitress) but when she came round to the brooding boy, he spared her a long glance and said, "Thank you."

Fine managed a small smile and a, "No problem."

She then excused herself to the adjoining kitchen. It was cooler and dimmer in there with no wine-breath to smell. She'd do the dishes; it was a good excuse to avoid the dining room.

She flicked on the faucet and promptly had the sink full of suds and warm water. She glanced back into the dining room and saw that the toddler had fallen asleep under the table and that the brooding boy was still sitting at the end of the table, his right elbow perched on the table, chin in hand. He appeared to be listening attentively to a conversational debate that end of the table was having but…he still looked utterly lifeless.

Surely, discussing economic crises wasn't so fascinating after twenty minutes.

The boy glanced up. Caught!

Fine cleared her throat and saved face by flashing him a smirk and gesturing with her head to the loud adult company. He looked down at the table and broke off the gaze.

Fine shrugged and turned back to her dishes, heart beating a bit faster, scrubbing away aggressively at the fancy silver platters her parents had brought out for the occasion. She wiped at her forehead, getting some suds in her hair and some strands falling in her face (she didn't really care that much though). She was about to set the clean, wet dish aside when a hand grabbed it from her first.

"I'll dry it," the boy said in a colorless voice.

Shade gaped for ten blank seconds and that gave the boy enough time to quickly sweep a dishtowel (it was a large cream one with a small turkey embroidered on it) over it. He placed it on an adjacent counter and walked back to her, his palm up, expecting another dish.

"You, um, don't have to," Fine said, chortling as she scrubbed another plate. "You're the guest."

"I'd kind of rather be out of that room for a while," he said, still holding the towel implicatively.

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

She handed him the plate, very aware that they were in such close proximity that their elbows occasionally grazed each other's and she could hear his breath as he vigorously rubbed off all traces of water on the dishware. They were quite a working pair; not even needing so much as communication when she was done with a dish. She finished just as he finished so neither of them were left waiting with empty hands.

"Sweeeetie," Fine's mother's slurred voice rang from the dining hall, "since you're in there would you and Shade be dears and serve the pumpkin pie? Dessert plates are in the tooop cabinet. Oh, and a serving knife too."

Fine let out a small, yet audible (to _SHADE_ as she just learned his name) sigh and wordlessly opened the cupboard to get the dessert dishes.

"Dang," she muttered as she looked up and saw to her dismay that her five-foot-four frame would simply not do to reach so high up.

Shade was already at her side and balancing the tall stack of dishes they'd just washed and dried in one hand, he gently deposited them into their correct spots in the cabinet and with the other hand, he got the dessert plates down. This was all done very gracefully. He was just efforlessly _bent_ on making her attracted to him wasn't he?

"Showoff," Fine muttered as she gestured to his taller advantage. Shadeshrugged cutely

"Pie?"

"In the fridge. White box," Fine said as she rummaged through a drawer for the forks and serving knife.

She was promptly handed the pie and the two of them entered the horrible wine-smelling dining room, serving the pie as quickly and neatly as they could. Obviously, both of them preferred the fresh air of the kitchen and wished to escape to that little sanctuary as soon as possible.

Shade's hands moved briskly and he served two plates which he took and nodded to Fine. She realized that he'd gotten it for them (that was nice).

"Thanks," Fine said, sighing breathlessly as they plopped down on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against the cool refrigerator. Roars of laughter from the dining room became background music.

Shade stabbed his slice with his fork and waved it around before eating it. "So. How do we know each other?"

"Our parents are co-workers. Something like that," Fine said, mouth full. She brushed a few crumbs daintily off her lips with her finger.

He asked another question. "Why're you so quiet in there?"

Fine chewed and grinned. "Why do you pretend to be interested in their conversations?"

"Touché."

A smirk twitched on Shade's face and he couldn't help but feel rather content as he sat there, full and relaxed and eating pumpkin pie with a girl who was tolerable (actually, more like _like_able but he wasn't going to admit that out loud).

"I don't know about you," Fine said, finishing her pie with a clatter of her fork, "But if there's ever another Thanksgiving party like this, I'm totally sitting next to you to avoid wine-breath and economical debate talks."

Now Shade was fully smiling.

"Agreed."


End file.
